Blood Fantasy
by Sonsasu the Gray Daiconi
Summary: He followed me home, uh, can I keep him?" …Yeah, I don't think anyone would buy me saying a talking car followed me home either. Read FFN profile.


**Blood Fantasy**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter One**

**"Curiosity Electrocuted the Cat"**

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I wasn't rich, luck was never fond of blessing me, and I wasn't the type to indulge on random chance. That said…it's incredible how fast circumstances can throw a curve ball on just one lonesome occurrence.

On any other night, I'd have simply walked home as per the norm, comforted in the unfaltering pattern I complied to seamlessly.

On any _other_ night.

Slow, lethargic steps dragged the heels of my boots against the rough, cracked sidewalk, resulting in the rhythmic scraping sound that my ears listened to in the muteness of the outside world. Cold autumn nights kept this area silent, noisy insects gone, dead or sleeping, distance from the active roads also yielding to the union of quiet. I personally enjoyed such absolute stillness, reason why I took this eerie route, in the stead of a bus or subway.

Head lowered in the recesses of a deep hood to avoid the biting wind whistling by, and hands buried in the depth of tight jean pockets, an outside viewer might accuse the type of posture as unmindful. It was, however, anything but what it indicated. Using a habit- now a routine- of occasionally scouting ahead via a searching glance aimed to shadowy surroundings, I lifted my eyes, seeking anything or anyone that might be a threat to the integrity of good health.

Unwilling to gamble a gust of cold air penetrating the sanctuary of an insulated coat three sizes too large, I reluctantly sacrificed the heat defending one hand to ease the fabric covering my head aside for a better look around. Being a mundane shadow in the neighborhood extended the liberation of most generally ignoring me…but I knew better than to arrogantly assume safety in going unnoticed. Cautious eyes slipped left, checking passing buildings for possible concerns, picking apart the figures of abandoned trashcans in the darkness of alleyways, and the barely illuminated street corners further up and behind. Seeing naught, my gaze went to the right, and spotted it.

A car?

This business section was a dead host to human parasites that wanted no observation to dingy deeds and lawless conduct. Whole-heartedly neglected by authority, the urban area had died decades ago, corrupted from its heart by the constant assault of crime. Boarded up buildings, devoid of original purpose, donned the duty to become a place to reside unseen. Nevertheless, to see a parked vehicle here, as if it connected to the living section of the slums, was quite the oddity.

No sane person wanted their clunkers on wheels striped clean by greedy hands looking for parts to sell, and no matter the terrible condition of the automobile, you set it around here, and you'd return to a naked frame, if even that. Surprise rooted me to the sidewalk. Were the police actually attempting to allure auto theft with a set up? Curiosity peddled aching, black booted feet closer to what I casually examined from afar. If so, the idiots had a better chance of losing that piece than bringing anyone from around here and tossing them into jail.

However, think of this if you will, I don't know diddlysquat on cars, found the thrill of the machines outright boring. Looking at their trademark names told me the companies they belonged to, nothing else, nada, absolutely, positively, zilch. Hearing an engine was the same to me, a few louder than others, some softer, big whoopee. Looking at the undercarriage, gosh gee wiz, metal and pipes. However, even someone uncouth toward complex mechanics can spot something…attractive.

A piercing chilly breeze howled ominously in the frigid, hushed night. Annoyingly unpleasant feeling tightening the already present knots in a sensitive stomach, and standing the finer hairs decorating my neck aside, it was unremarkable to my silent, hunched form standing on the right side of the walkway beside the desolate road. Everything fell into the common pattern, everything but the appearance of that damn car I was examining. Pursing my lips until they resembled the look you got when eating something powerfully sour, the temptation to keep going, to dismiss the oddity as nothing and not consider it, succeeded with an iron will to skip tossing a bone to the starving beast that was curiosity.

After all, my bed sang a song sweeter than the golden flavor of warm honey to my tired ears. Moreover, why waste the four hours I had generously been allotted?

Recalling my good fortune of escaping work at the Drunken Croc produced a contented sigh to paint the air. Having started early on in the cloudy morning, with it then declining suddenly, our regular sum of customers a bit thin for the evening, I'd requested an early leave. My boss, Fair Stevie, was a gruff old coot, married to a shrew of a woman, and perverted to his twisted bone marrow. As the nickname name suggested, he was decent to a point, er, personality wise, and let me off from the late shift I often took. A good thing for a person already fatigued from a late previous night. After bidding him a brief goodbye with the flick of the hand in the air at the door, I left, caught the late bus and got off at its next stop.

Now, it wasn't as if I'd experienced a mind-blowing urge to sail over to the shiny metal side the second I saw the car, I regarded it at first much alike to spying a scruffy, mean, skeletal feline. The daring question of, can I touch it without losing a hand, being the center of that consideration. In all, the peculiar scene seemed innocent enough in the unused parking lot, blanket of cracked, dirt-ridden asphalt infested with dead, dry strands of grass peeking in-between the splits. However, this wasn't a place you'd allow a car to sit unattended, not unless the appeal of becoming a common victim to theft was charming, which led me genuinely to consider relating it to law enforcers.

Yet…the thought of it being some pitiful sap whose harebrained judgment landed them there, well, that alone warranted an extended peek. Mostly just to spare a moment for the amusement to mutter about the stupid fool. Common sense dictated to avoid what the lot connected to, that dismal layer of gritty pavement belonging to the old plaza mall. As a crumbled shell, abandoned in the middle of construction when money became a seeping trickle, the place was a forgotten hope of enterprise to the slums, one that was older than when my mother had dropped me into this world.

Cluttered under carelessly thrown away litter, cigarette butts, bits of paper, and larger stacks of foul garbage, the eyesore sat there like a gaunt, sagging fort against the star lit sky. Individuals trying to get along in their wretched lives scorned, but ignored it, as it represented an infection to the inhabitants of the distant neighborhood a few blocks away. Narcotic addicts flocked, and clustered themselves in the hollowed sections still intact with shelter-like barriers from the elements, low-level gangs employing it for their business as well. Yet in jaded teenage years with a small throng of close-knit friends, it was not a decaying structure many desired demolished, only a 'somewhere' to linger for a while with cherished fellows before returning to broken homes.

Kids around here needed to grow up fast to survive, thus at eighteen, all space for companions and simplistic adolescence shrank; we all had lives to maintain, a few with lovers to see, bills to pay and full time jobs to hold down.

With a closer look of narrowed eyes, my attention focused on the once believed bucket of scarp metal. From the looming shadow of the building, outward into the unassailable darkness of the parking lot, flint gray paint gleamed, flickering under the slight reach of the spotty streetlight bearing down on my shoulders. The low to the ground, streamlined design screamed 'speed demon,' for what I could see of it. It might be able to pass under the trailer of an eighteen-wheeler truck, I thought, nearing the derelict rusted fence that lined the borders of the dead shopping center. Breathing a soft, "cool," the steam from the exhaled word faded with the next gust. Glancing behind my shoulders, to assure a wary sense, I eased the chain link mesh aside, a haunting rattle of ancient metal in the quiet night.

My bed wasn't going anywhere, it was only for a quick satisfaction of admiration, nothing more; not as if I knew how to hotwire the required cables to steal it, and of course, I didn't want it in the first place…

Spending one last glance on the line of drab, gloomy brick buildings walling the opposite side of the street, nothing showed as displaced, no shadows shifted, and no human shapes stalked in the alleyways. Swallowing a thudding heart beating violently within the column of my throat, the crouched, jogging gait toward the remote target of curiosity quickened the contraction of my lungs, icy air rushing down my windpipe burning slightly.

Ah, I wasn't fond of running, either.

While the small, controlled sprint did no favors to a biased person who utterly disliked strenuous physical activity, the rush, all the same, brought my quarry closer. Loose bits of gravel crunched under the soles of my boots as I slowed, breath heaving from a gaping mouth. Dim light reflected off the polished, unappealing paint hue; steely shine within the night a direct pinpoint for straining eyes to locate. Pulling the flapping coat's fabric nearer to ward off the dour temperature seeping into it, I dropped down beside the car, navy blue jean clad legs pressed together.

No touching, no touching, no touching, no- okay, maybe just one.

Itchy fingers looking for a feel of smooth metal reached out. Hesitation made them stop an inch away; what if I triggered an alarm? Not willing to leave behind fingerprints, I turned my hand merely to trail my nails and part of the sensitive pads on the car's door. I tore them back instantly; a tethered yell announcing the severity the instant three of my fingers connected and received a massive jolt. Touching a live electrical socket would have felt better as agony slashed muscles in twine with searing knifes of fire.

Entire right arm lifeless to sensation, the cheeks of my ass crashed against the ground. My other hand had gone to the task of supporting from increasing the collision to the ground when I'd hopped backwards and fell, now it went to clutch at my impaired limb tightly, fisting in the padded material covering the arm, palm stinging from the aftermath of skidding over the rigid, irregular surface.

Had someone invented a new security system involving the electrocution of possible thieves?

Moaning pathetically, I rolled my shoulder, helping drag the useless arm over my lap. I'll never lay a hand on another car in my life! The gulps for elusive oxygen froze as the car's engine exploded to life. Answered to the fierce revving disturbing the silence was my own startled screech. A set of high beam headlights snapped on to thrust back the night with the intense light. Releasing the numb, limp arm to scramble up and onto unsteady feet, I stumbled backwards, apology half formed to soothe the supposed owner. My eyes widened once they saw past the darkly tinted windows.

All the seats were…were empty.

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**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Transformers**

**-Claimer-**

**© 2007-Sonsasu owns the narrating character and the plot**

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**A.N**

**Transformers, my new guilty pleasure.**

**Hope you enjoyed.**


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